


Claudia Stilinski's Guide To Being Dead

by operationhades



Series: how to be alive when dead [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Gen, Ghosts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 13:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operationhades/pseuds/operationhades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura thought being dead would've been a done deal. Maybe slightly magical, because she was a werewolf and being a werewolf generally meant everything about your life would be magical, she got that, she did. But life after death turned out... to be mind numbingly boring.</p><p>(On hold until I've got more of this written up. Oops.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. how to be dead (for dummies)

**Author's Note:**

> Here. Have two women being ghosts and starting something new. _edit:_ This fic is currently on hold (but not hiatus) until I've got enough written up that I can resume posting at a fairly regular schedule. Sorry guys!

Laura thought being dead would've been a done deal. Maybe slightly magical, because she was a werewolf and being a werewolf generally meant everything about your life would be magical, she got that, she did. But life after death turned out to be... mind numbingly boring.

She'd stalked her little brother as he went about making a mess of everything, groaning in frustration and giving in to a few urges to swipe at his head, only to get further irritated when it passed through. She tried hitting trees, swiping at the asthma pump on the forest floor, tripping backwards when Derek dropped to pick it up. She tried everything, and nothing worked, because her life sucked and somebody up there thought it would be hilarious if she died and became a ghost.

Her. A ghost. A  _werewolf ghost_.

Ha. Ha.  _Ha_.

Watching her brother terrorise the two kids that came for the asthma pump the next day was vaguely satisfying, even if one of them stank of being a newly turned werewolf. She followed Derek around like the bored ghost that she was, insulting him every now and then for the terrible choices he was making, like his all-monochrome wardrobe, but pointedly didn't say anything about his living conditions.

How could she, after living in the burnt out husk of their family home herself? It would be hypocritical of her, and Laura Hale was  _never_ a hypocrite. Much.

Strangely enough (or maybe not so strangely) it turned out Laura wasn't imprisoned in the four walls of the preserve, left to haunt the forest for the rest of her life. Instead, she was to haunt Derek, or Peter, which made her theorise that it was family she was bound too, and not the location of her death. She didn't very much like following Peter(obviously), so mostly she wasted her time following Derek. Derek, who continued to terrorise underaged boys and momentarily get arrested. Derek, who tried growling and snarling the new werewolf - Scott - into paying attention, while battling with his own need to avenge his sister, to avenge  _her_.

It was adorable. In a watching-a-train-wreck-about-to-happen sort of way.

Either way, she didn't follow Derek when he went into the hospital to talk to a 'comatose' Peter. She just couldn't.

It was the first mistake she made since being dead.

The second was not paying more attention to Peter, to not trying to figure out  _why_ he'd done what he did,  _why_ he'd ki-- done that _thing_ to her. She caught glimpses of Kate Argent, of Victoria Argent, of Chris Argent - she caught glimpses of the Sheriff, of his son, the talkative kid she vaguely remembered from  _before_ , and a whole lot of Scott.

And then, she caught  ~~glimpses~~   _everything_ , the whole deal, the whole fight, when it happened at the doorsteps of her childhood home, when Peter and Kate and Derek and Scott and  _Stiles_ \- the smart kid with the biting humour that brightened her dreary afterlife a little - fought and argued and killed with Chris and his daughter pitching in.

And she caught Peter's gaze when Derek was about to rip his throat out, and kept it when he did, and stroked her uncle's forehead as the light dimmed out of Peter's eyes.

Peter didn't end up as a ghost, which was just as well since she hated talking about _feelings_ (ew), but Laura was certain Peter had gotten the gist. She didn't blame her, she didn't fault him, she didn't hate him; because killing Kate Argent had been worth  _everything_.

But that was her second mistake. Her  _first_ mistake only came to light a few days later when the hospital called to get Derek to pick up Peter's measly belongings. She went with him this time, because why the hell not, and immediately felt her heart stop.

Or start. She wasn't sure what her heart was doing exactly, but she very much did not  _like it_.

In one of the hallways, sitting on a chair looking bored, Stiles was drumming his fingers and fidgeting. That wasn't surprising - apparently his crush or something was in the hospital? Laura didn't know, neither did she really care if she was being honest here. But what  _was_ surprising was the woman with the same upturned nose and the same _scent_ sitting right next to Stiles, calm as fuck.

That woman had no heartbeat.

Laura went still, nostrils flaring as she drew in that scent further to analyze it, and almost fell into Derek when the woman disappeared and appeared in the blink of an eye  _right in front of her_.

"Holy shit," Laura cursed, grimacing as a little bit of her shoulder phased through Derek. "What the-"

The woman grinned, brown hazel eyes glinting mischievously, and casually said, "You must be new here."

Surreptitiously looking around, Laura took in the hospital and it's white walls, and dryly responded, "No, not really."

"I meant the whole dead thing," the woman clarified, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "Being a ghost, etcetera etcetera etcetera, that sort of thing."

Now Laura was not a stupid woman; no, on the contrary, she was pretty much a damn genius, thank you very much, so she put two and two together and made a noise of understanding. "You're dead too."

The woman rolled her eyes, unimpressed by Laura's mean feat of deduction. "I'd like to say 'no shit, Sherlock' here, but it sounds so  _juvenile_ , so I'll just say  _yes_ like a mature adult and leave it there."

They gravitated away from the centre of the hallway, the apparent dislike of the feeling of people walking through them mutual, and loitered next to a vending machine. Derek walked on purposely, unaware of the missing presence by his shoulder, and Stiles equally looked unknowledgeable about his missing companion.

"Is this normal?" Laura asked, a slight electricity of hope shooting through her at the possibility of finally getting some answers. "Ghosts and stuff? Or..."

"Or are we just special?" The woman finished, grin dampening a little to a small smile. "I'm really sorry, but I don't know. You're the first other me I've seen since... Well, since I died."

Shit. Then it could just be them. Laura wanted to ask when the woman had died, but knew instinctively that that was  _rude_ , and her mother had raised her well, so instead she stuck out a hand and said, "Laura Hale. I died two weeks ago."

The woman's smile brightened a little, and she accepted the handshake and shook it, grip slightly too tight and desperate for normal. "Claudia, Claudia Stilinski. It's nice to meet you; I died seven years ago."

Then... Stiles' mom? Had to be, because she knew for a fact that the Sheriff was a widower. Laura smiled, something settling in her, a sense of peace enveloping her from the point of contact she'd been missing for two weeks, because finally, she wasn't alone.

"It's nice to meet you too."


	2. learn your limits (the ghostly parameters)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." - Mark Twain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I have nothing planned for this story save for vague yet disconcerting ideas, so feel free to hit me up with suggestions. D:

When Laura died, she figured the afterlife would be something like Valhalla, a forest-y place where werewolves frolicked together in peace. It wasn't. Instead, it was being a ghost that couldn't touch or speak to _anyone_  and watching everything unfold in the shitty town of Beacon Hills.

She thought Peter would be the last of it - watched Derek bury his limp body, alone and lonely, reeking of depression and anger at no one but himself. Derek should have _at least_ have had some time to get over it, to move on, even if he was the worst person in the world at 'moving on', but Laura was quickly finding out that  _should_ didn't mean  _would_.

Kate Argent died, and not a day later Gerard Argent rolled in.

Claudia tutted beside her, giving the Argent family a deeply unimpressed look. They were at the funeral, capable of being there thanks to Stiles and Scott eavesdropping from behind a statue. Claudia had taught her a lot about being a ghost, and Laura's mere existence (or  _non_ existence, let's be real here) had taught them both new things too. Like the fact that only  _one_ of them had to be bound to a blood relative, and the other could just follow. Laura was here at the funeral not because Derek was around, not because  _Peter_ was around (he was dead, gone, off to that place Laura had been barred from, that afterlife where her mom and dad and everybody was), but because Stiles was and thus Claudia was and thus  _Laura_ was.

It was confusing. But at least it meant Laura had more things to do with her time than stalk Derek.

"I don't like him," Laura growled, watching Gerard throw back some pills. "He's too unaffected, he doesn't even  _care_."

Claudia hummed, picking the dirt from her nails, and only gave the old man a glancing look. "So he's an actor. Big deal."

"They're  _werewolf hunters_." Laura hissed, turning a scandalised look at her. "How could none of them have known what Kate was going to do? Derek should've let Peter kill them all." _  
_

"Darling," Claudia sighed, finally turning her attention to her. "Even if they did, they wouldn't have stopped her. Why? Because you're werewolves, and to them werewolves are criminals. Would you stop an angry mob from killing a murderer? Nope. You wouldn't. It's pretty much the same thing for them."

"But we're  _not_ murderers!"

"No," she agreed, looking completely unbothered by the amber glowing bright in Laura's eyes. "And the person getting beaten to death by a mob might not actually be one too. You don't think Chris Argent knew, did you?"

Laura shook her head. "He stank of guilt and remorse. I doubt he was part of it."

"And he also stepped back and let werewolf justice happen, right?"

"Yeah," Laura said, frowning at the older woman in confusion. "And?"

"That's basically a man stepping in between a mob and stopping them from killing the psuedo-murderer. Every now and then, there'll be a person that's genuinely a stickler for rules, that would fight for someone who might be a criminal, that would throw them in jail rather than shoot them in the face."

Laura didn't miss the wistful look on Claudia's face, nor did she miss the way the mother looked to her son, who was currently giving Scott a pep talk about god knew what. "Your husband's one of them, huh?"

Laughing, Claudia nodded her head in ferment agreement. "The worst. He'd tell you to turn yourself in and believe in the justice system rather than run for the border. Me? I'd burn the whole world if someone touched a hair on my boy's head." _  
_

Laura stared at the woman, at the brightly cheerful way she'd just said that, then turned to look at Stiles. "Have you... ever tried talking to them? Going into their dreams? Something?"

The cheer disappeared like it was never there to begin with. "I have." Claudia said, voice low and pained. "I tried for four years, and for four years my son suffered from panic attacks."

Laura sucked in a breath through her teeth, understanding hitting her like a freight train, and put a hand on Claudia's shoulder. It wasn't enough, it would never be enough, because she was a werewolf and she'd always been in charge, a leader, an alpha to be and then  _the_ alpha, and her duty had been to protect and dish out comfort with touches and cuddles. The simple act of a hand on a shoulder felt too...  _small_ for her, too useless, but Claudia smiled at her in thanks, smile slightly strained, but still nevertheless a smile.

It would have to do.

She wondered what would happen if she tried something with Derek, if she tried doing something more than punching at his head and blanching when her fist went through. She wondered if she could dream walk into his mindscape like the stories great gran gran would tell them, back when she was alive, way before Cora was even born. She wondered if she could maybe at least make him feel better, like the faint feeling of a hug, because Derek needed all the hugs he could get.

They carried on watching the funeral for a while longer, the two of them side by side, but sooner rather than later Stiles grew bored and dragged Scott away, the effect pulling on Claudia, who ambled along after them, lovingly sweet smile on her face as she followed after her son, Laura pulled along by virtue.

She hung around with the older woman for a while after, watched how Claudia skirted around the edges of the local park almost fearfully, watched how Stiles casually walked through her, completely unaware, and how Claudia closed her eyes against the feeling and looked utterly pained. It grew too much for Laura soon after, in which case she bid the woman a goodbye and popped out of existence, popping in again in the darkness of the Hale house, old and barren and dead. She could feel Derek outside, puttering about with something, maybe with the old pump that spat out freezing cold water, but he was close enough that she didn't feel the tug towards him.

So she stayed inside, a ghost in a burnt down house, ironically unimpressed.

* * *

 

That night, she put a hand on Derek's forehead as he slept, closed her eyes, and  _pushed_.

Derek woke up screaming, eyes flashing icy blue, and Laura never tried again.

* * *

 

"You tried it, didn't you?" Claudia asked knowingly the next day.

Laura pulled a face, shuffling apologetically where she stood, and huffed when Claudia only cocked an eyebrow at her.

"You know," the older woman continued, voice still completely casual. "They say kids search for their parents when looking for a partner."

The non sequitur felt like it should have been completely surprising, but Laura was starting to find out that Claudia Stilinski was no ordinary human. For one thing, she thought llamas were perfectly good topic of conversations to have while watching Derek do his morning workout.

"... And?"

Claudia jerked her chin at someone, forcing Laura to look at the general direction of a sea of students, none of them particularly standing out. Claudia must have seen her confusion, because she rolled her eyes expressively (a bit  _too_ expressively to the point where it was just plain old  _dramatic_ ) and said, "The red haired girl, the one that's sitting there next to the Whittemore boy."

Laura looked, and looked, and looked. " _Oh_ , you mean the bimbo with the rich boy, riiiiight. What about her?"

"Stiles is head over heels for her," came the answer. "Except she's not actually a bimbo, because my boy has wonderful tastes, thank you very much, but only acts like it because it's what's expected of pretty girls in today's society." Claudia looked serious when she said this, which was bad because Laura thought it was a joke at first, and so she'd snorted. Awkward. "I remember when Stiles came home from the third grade one day and told me he'd found his wife. Took me years to see what he saw in her, but I think I understand now."

"So... You're okay with him and her being together? You approve of her as a daughter in law?" Laura asked slowly, trying to figure out what the point of the whole conversation even was.

Claudia burst into startled laughter, looking incredulously at Laura before snorting hysterically all over again. "Oh god no," she breathed, waving Laura's question away dismissively. "I hate that girl, I really do, but she's viciously smart and an amazing actor. She has  _personality_ , which is better than most girls or boys do at this age, and her fashion sense is pretty damn impeccable. I'm hoping she might talk my baby out of the plaid one day."

"You're a very strange person, you know that?" Laura complained, huffing petulantly. "Look, why are we even here? All they're doing is eating lunch."

"That's because it's lunch time," Claudia answered, giving Laura a look that screamed just how dumb she thought Laura was. "That's what you do at lunch time, you go to the cafeteria and eat lunch. I like to come here because of the noise."

"The... noise...?"

A dark look passed over Claudia's face like a shadow, voice strained as she admitted, "Seven years is an awfully long time to be lonely."

... And here she could pretend she was just one of the crowd, and not dead and alone.

Laura stared at Claudia, thought about how she herself had been frustrated beyond belief those two weeks, how she'd started to speak and then realised nobody would be able to hear her, how she'd wait for an answer to a question she'd inevitably asked, only to then realise none was coming. Multiply that by seven years, and Laura could see where Claudia was coming from.

"So what're we going to do 'bout the Argents?" She finally said, deciding Claudia didn't want to talk _feelings_ besides a basic declaration to explain herself.

Turned out she was right, because Claudia smiled sweetly, threading an arm with Laura's own, and answered, "What else? Scare the living shit out of them."

* * *

 

When Laura first woke up and realised she was a ghost, she thought she'd be able to do ghost-things, like properly haunt a place. Then, when she tried and realised she totally couldn't, she figured life sucked, and met Claudia. Claudia, who told her they  _could_ do ghost-things, that they could do  _amazing_ ghost-things, and that life didn't suck,  _Laura_ did.

"Yeah whatever, hot shot," Laura muttered under her breath, glaring mutinously at the flickering light above the Sheriff's desk.

Claudia laughed, the sound like wind chimes, delightfully light and airy, even as the Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose and quietly said to himself, "How many Sheriff's does it take to screw a lightbulb? Punchline; none, because the damn lightbulb refuses to stay screwed for any period of time. Fantastic."

Despite herself, Laura laughed too, because poor guy didn't have a clue what was happening.

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted to my [gen tumblr](http://theshukri.tumblr.com/), which is new and shall never have an otp that isn't canonical. For my usual bullshit (and sterek + other otp's that are unfortunately _not_ canon), [sheriffbadass]() is where to be.


End file.
